Avenger
by MaxStupidity
Summary: Dark!Merlin - Prompt: Merthur fic loosely based on the SasuNaru story. Merlin's family is killed when he's a child and it's Uther's fault. Merlin works for Arthur as manservant but eventually leaves because of his hatred. prompt given by: timelordofcamelot on Tumblr.


He didn't want to leave. Not really, deep down, he didn't - but he'd seen Balinor die, and in the end, what he wanted didn't really count.  
He was an avenger. Nothing else mattered.

Leaving Camelot wasn't hard. He had a horse - well, not initially his, it was Arthur's, but that bit wasn't important. He'd taken care of it on more occasions than Arthur had, and - well, that prat didn't deserve a horse, or anything, for that matter.

He mounted Balveria in secrecy, held on to her reigns and kicked, and bewitched her into silence and invisibility, so that the two of them were merely a sway in the sedate night air.  
He didn't stop, not once, until they'd reached the edges of Camelot, and in the middle of the forest it looked nothing like the town he knew. Instead, it was full of shadows, of lies, of hidden fables and death and murder unspoken for - of blood money, and hatred, and for a quiet moment, he was glad.  
It was easier to hate that way, easier to look forward and not behind, easier to push his horse on, until Camelot was somewhere far far away, unforeseeable, unreachable, and forgotten -  
Or so, Merlin hoped.

The night grew around them, and hours later they'd come upon the shelter beneath a forest of bamboo trees, hidden from all eyes but ones that shone as golden as Merlin's. "Cenred," He greeted, letting his magic fall into the air around him - and for the first time in eighteen years, he felt free.

The druids welcomed him with open arms, ancient spices, and tea, but Merlin turned away from them - he hadn't come for pleasantries. There was a reason for his arrival, and he found it watching from the edges of the campfires, hidden in an elegant glow of a million different shades, all far from mortal and vaguely impure.

Morgana and Morgause greeted him with "Emrys," and a curt nod of their heads, while Mordred only watched, appeasing with his eyes.

•

"That - that _bastard._"

That was the start of the first day: the one without Merlin.

Arthur had woken, and waited, hour upon hour in bed, thinking - 'he must have overslept again,' 'he's never THIS late,' 'I'm going to fire him when he gets here-'  
But it was hours late, and Arthur figured it out eventually - when he'd dragged himself to Gauis's chambers and threw the doors open, only to find the elder man hunched over an empty bed, clutching at the sheets.

"Did he leave anything behind?" He'd asked, but Gauis looked at him with fearful eyes, and said, "he took the magic book."

Arthur had raced to Uther then, alerted him of a threat, and Uther had cursed and cursed, and for a moment, it was like Morgana all over again - like losing another limb, and now Arthur had to survive on only half a body.

Then the search begun.

•

"Do you really want to do this?" Morgana had inquired a week later, watching as Merlin built a fire upon the earth and rose it to the sky with his eyes alone - a smirk playing in her eyes and firm on her lips.  
He'd turned to her, his eyes still glowing, and for a second, her smile fell.

•

"We won't find him," Leon had called one night. "We can't find him, Arthur. Let it go."  
"No," Arthur refused, shaking his head and looking beyond his knights into the darkness, searching, grasping for any sign -  
"Look at us, Arthur. This is madness." Leon's voice was pleading, and Arthur had turned.  
It had been a month exactly, but they'd already lost four of their knights, with four others laying injured, and every remaining one beaten to exhaustion.

He rode them home, that night, and pulled Leon aside.  
"Tell my father I will return with Merlin. Tell him it is a promise of a lifetime."  
- and when Leon looked at him with crazed eyes, Arthur had just shook his head, with an air that commanded: that I am your prince, and you cannot defy me, and I trust you to do as I wish.  
He'd slipped out of sight once Leon had sworn his oath, with tears faint in his eyes, and masked questions of 'will we ever see you again?' that Arthur read without struggle but ignored.

Once the tap of horseshoes against the ground had faded, Arthur's blue eyes shone a fiery orange-gold, and he rode faster than any mortal presence could.

•

"It's not insignificant to me. There's no question. You're my closest friend, Arthur."

But it didn't feel that way.

"I don't remember you being this cold, Merlin. You're.. You're really trying to kill me, aren't you?"

And even as Arthur spoke the words, Merlin's eyes glimmered, and Arthur thought - if only it was with love instead of hatred, then he would be beautiful - as beautiful as Arthur remembered him to be, as beautiful as that first time that he'd smiled, and -

But none of it mattered anyway, because the ground was starting to shake and Arthur felt something grasp at his throat, felt his heart shudder, felt it pound unsteadily against his chest, and for a moment, the orange of his eyes faded to blue, and he'd almost given up -  
But then the seal broke, and the ancient Penndragon power rose, and suddenly it was not a normal magic that Arthur harboured, and not his voice that roared, "_I don't know why._ I don't know why, but I just can't bear the thought of seeing you taken away."

And then Merlin was beneath him, all graceful limbs too long and skin too pale and hair too dark, dark as his eyes when they weren't magic, dark as his soul when he was.

"I'll break every bone in your body if I have to," Arthur whispered, and when Merlin looked at him, his eyes were more dragon than human, more beast than mortal, and it made Merlin's heart ache with the need to fight, to kill.

It was then that the first ache hit him, and his shoulders went numb, and he knew that his own curse had been activated.  
It made Merlin smile, evil and merciless, and greedy for more pain, because he knew that without loss, there would be no power.

It was risky, but he'd raised himself, touching Arthur's skin even though the very feel of it hurt, and he'd pushed until he was pressed dry against Arthur's other form, and then his eyes turned that colour again - that particular shade that only one person would ever see.

Suddenly, it was demon versus demon, and they fought with all their will and matched each other like two parts of the same coin, until they'd fought each other raw, until there was only one thing left:

And then Arthur had paused, leaning against the ground, searching for purchase, with his chest heaving and Excalibur heavy in his hands - bloodied beyond recognition but still his own, a gift from someone he thought he'd known - and when he'd caught his breathe, he'd said, "it's true, I would never know what it's like to have a true father, or a sister. But when I'm with you, I wonder if this is what it feels like to.."  
And then Merlin was hovering above him, still on his feet but swaying, asking, "why, Arthur? Why would you go this far for me?"  
And Arthur answered, "because this is the first time I've ever had a bond like this. Because, Merlin, I love you."

Merlin felt the pang again - only this time, it tug at his heart, with so much more force than he'd ever felt before, and it made him fall down to his knees, fall onto his arms - poised, with either one at Arthur's side, and too close, so close that he could see the cuts on Arthur's cheeks, could see the layer of clay and dust clinging to his skin, so close that he could count Arthur's eyelashes when his eyes fell shut, when the dragon faded away, when the heaving of Athur's chest had ceased and there was only an unnoticeable rise and fall, and Arthur was almost gone.

It started to rain. Merlin's scarf had come undone and fallen to his side, by Arthur's fingertips, almost touching - and it was green, of all colours, vulgar and mad against the grey of the ground, and the rain was cold, but Merlin was grateful for it hiding his tears.

He didn't move much - didn't have to, because all it took was for him to bend his head, lower himself just a little, part his lips just enough to taste Arthur's -  
But he hadn't tasted Arthur's lips, but Arthur's blood, and it was sour and torrid, but probably more pure than his own, as Arthur had always been the more fair of the two, the more innocent -  
Except somehow, he knew it wasn't entirely Arthur, but Arthur and Merlin, and one and the other, and the effect they had on each other, only this time, Merlin had won, and Arthur was barely alive, and Merlin had really really thought that he wanted this - wanted to see Arthur bleed, wanted to see Camelot fall, wanted his revenge.

He just didn't know that happiness felt so near to sorrow, that success was so friendly with loss and so sour, that everything he'd worked for made him kind of masochist, and that with Arthur dead, Balinor wasn't alive, and nor was Will, and Hunith still buried back in Ealdor, back in his backyard, with roses at her grave.

It was enough to make Merlin break - heave, mad with his own doings, mad with his own stupidity, mad with grief -  
It was enough to almost feel sorry, almost want to carry Arthur home, almost want Camelot to _be_ home again - but it was a passing moment of insanity in a world where insanity was the norm, and the norm was insane, and the word 'avenger' made itself heard in Merlin's head, carved into his essence, into his being. Somewhere far away he could hear the word "Emrys," dark and unbecoming, but it was him, him that was evil, him that was lost, and he couldn't remain and wish for Arthur to look at him again with blue eyes that spoke more honesty alone than in all of Camelot put together and a look that spelled "love" louder and clearer and more powerful than all the sad, angry, hateful glares he'd gotten his entire life.

He couldn't, for the life of him, stay, and wait for Arthur to speak again, to beg him to come back - no matter how much he'd wanted to, because in all his vulnerability he'd found a part of him that might have slipped, might have given in, might have - if Arthur was to tell him again - said yes.

He'd kissed Arthur again before leaving - strong and desperate and wistful, but the cries of _Emrys_ had gotten stronger, and he'd pushed himself on his feet and pulled himself together - as hard as it was, as much as he wanted nothing more but to fall back and die, rest into the selfishness of denial, of losing awareness.  
He'd pushed that selfish greed into the back of his mind, and thought of Ealdor instead - of a city lost and of a dead past, and he'd walked away into the darkness, with "avenger" playing loud and clear in his mind, until the very last shred of light had faded away and there was nothing left but the emptiness of complete solitude.


End file.
